Little boy unspoken dreams,
Rests his gentle head under the street light.
Little boy spoken dreams,
Rests his gentle head next to his night light.
The warmth of his blanket and bedsheet
cover the vast seas of his imagination
as the blue tarp and empty crates
protect the other from the unforeseen thieves in his broken nation.
Sacred stars reflect off of his glittering eyes, in awe of God’s creation.
  real stars drive fancy cars and thrive off of their education.
His mind wanders to dreams about a better world.
Originated from the the rumors once told.
The sun makes another appearance for the new day
and the digital chimes ring on the alarms display. 
The short night brings no rest.
while the roosters crow wakes the other from his nest.
A new day has risen. 
Cold water from the faucet embraces the boy’s face as he gets ready. 
The other reaches for a bucket and races down to the stream that runs steady. 
The boy reaches into his closet for a clean new shirt.
While the other wears the clothes his mother left him since birth.
Their growling stomachs speak the language of hunger. 
One speaks less than the other.
He goes on an exodus to stop his stomach from talking.
While the other rarely eats and is a dead man walking.
He marches on a treacherous dirt road.
While the other walks on his paved road.
No matter how rough the stone,
He walks alone.
The years pass by
A new look in his eyes reveals a bigger heart.
While the other’s eyes reflect he isn’t doing his part.
He’s under the  encompassing darkness of doing well in school.
The deep imprints on his skin show he wants to forget everything.
Now all of a sudden, he’s hanging with the wrong crew.
Right decisions, wrong decisions it doesn't matter cause it's his decision.
The first world loses his rhythm.
The smoke filled room sends his mind on a journey.
In a new realm, he cannot see that he is blind as a cat with cataracts in a cimmerian cave,
To the truth that his smoke filled lungs and addiction to booze has divided his spirit from himself. His real self, the man that his family once knew to be the kind and loving boy.
The third world on the other hand.
Stays in line, right mind, on cloud nine, and keeps his rhyme.
He finds himself on a paved road, with an education provided by the salvation from another nation.  The rumors once told turned out to be true.
There will always be good people like me and you.
To help a young man,
By putting the right tools in his hands
So he can put clothes on his back,
Shoes on his feet and get something to eat.
Flashforward, third world is much older.
New place to call home and loved ones leaning on his shoulder.
Married now and with children of his own,
He sits on a golden throne and rests
While first world lies on the street,
Heart beating out of his chest.
Drunken sorrows and nothing to eat.
Just a misfit toy lost under the neglect of a man that was once a boy.
The tides have shifted, no more time to listen.
Think back to the time you should’ve thought twice before ruining your life,
And a new picture is set into frame where one can see a..
Grown man  with broken dreams
Resting his weary head under a street light
Grown man with fulfilled dreams
Resting his humble head next to his bed light